It didnt matter if we ever saw each other again.
What mattered had already happened.
I made my way to the lobby.
God & Man
It was no more than a quarter past seven.
Ill do an oat milk latte, I said.
Twelve or sixteen ounce?
Ill start with twelve, I replied, knowing Id be back within the hour for a refill.
I settled into one of the couches in the lobby.
The electric fireplace was going even though it was June.
Soft music hummed in the background.
The hotel was just waking up, too.
No more than 15 minutes later, he sat down.
He had a boyish face and sleek Nikes.
We were practically mirror images of one another.
He, too, was in a baseball cap.
He, too, was reading a physical book.
I found him cutevery cute.
I wanted to talk to him.
I hadnt felt this way about a guy in a while.
Four months out from a pretty traumatic breakup, I was still nursing my wounds.
It was refreshing to be drawn to someone in this way.
We stole glances at one another for the next 15 minutes.
I had a feeling Id start chatting with him, but I wasnt sure when or how to begin.
I went back to reading my book.
Every few pages Id look up, and at the exact same time, he did the same.
I ventured back to the coffee bar.
What can I get you?
the barista asked again.
As I stirred this coffee Id later toss, I decided to go for it.
I dont mean to bother you, I said, but are you reading 1776?
Id noticed the title on the spine of the book when I was sitting across from him.
Paired with his Patagonia baseball cap and warm demeanor, it was both unexpected and adorable.
Ha, I am he replied.
Im really into American History.
What are you reading?
He reached out his hand.
I went to shake it.
I was actually reaching for your book, he said with a smile.
I said, handing it to him.
I felt a wave of mild embarrassment; had I initiated skin-to-skin contact too soon?
Not wanting to get too lost in the thought, I carried on.
Its a memoir by one of my favorite writers, I said.
He scanned the back cover.
He was in town for his brothers bachelor party.
I was in town for work.
He asked if I was staying at the hotel.
I said I was.
He made a point to clarify that the weekend wasnt a strip club punch in of bachelor party.
I found that endearing.
Within a few minutes, wed exchanged numbers and made loose plans to meet up later that evening.
I left the lobby with renewed energy, my hangover a thing of the past.
My mind couldnt linger on the interaction too long.
I had a photoshoot to prep for.
The anticipation was comforting.
It felt good to be excited about someone again.
So when were done around 10 were just gonna go to the bars around there.
Lmk if you want to come meet us.
I sensed a reserved enthusiasm.
What I really heard was:Was that real this morning?
Our pre 8 a.m. flirting?
I felt it, too.
I wrote back:Yeah thatd be fun.Keep me posted.
In other words:Yes, that was real and Im real.
Yes, Im looking forward to seeing you.
In fact, I think it would be fun.
The rest of the afternoon felt a little buzzier.
I walked the few miles downtown and made my way to the Art Institute, gliding through the exhibits.
When I realized Id inadvertently landed at the Bean, Chicagos quintessential tourist trap, I didnt mind.
When my legs got tired, I read in the nearby gardens.
At 8:36 p.m., he texted again.
He said they were running behind and was it okay to meet up closer to 10:30?
I was exhausted but pushed myself to say yes.
I knew having this experience would end up serving me in ways I couldnt yet articulate.
At 10:32 p.m., he texted to say he was in the lobby.
I dragged myself out of bed, checked my cheeks for pillow creases, and got into the elevator.
As I was riding down, I realized I wasnt sure Id recognize him.
My fears dissipated when I saw him standing near the hotel entrance.
Hed changed into a crisp white shirt.
The baseball cap was gone.
I could tell he was surveying the area near the elevator bank.
We settled in with the bachelor party, hanging back a few yards to chat.
He admitted to stalking me with no luck.
He asked me if I was sad his hair looked better than mine.
He had a Seth Rogan-style humor.
Between every word, I collapsed into a fit of giggles.
Within a half hour, my face hurt from laughing so much.
We moved from bar to bar, half talking to the group, half not.
I felt like I was in college again, trailing along with a big group of guys.
After mediocre runs at two bars, we went back to the hotel.
Wed reached the point of drunkenness and exhaustion where making conversation was a lost cause.
Wed also managed to separate ourselves entirely from the group.
I felt like a teenager as we pawed at each other in the elevator.
We arrived at his floor and he took my hand, leading me to his room.
I was still laughing.
We collapsed into his bed.
Somewhere in there, I turned to him and said, Robbie, will you kiss my back?
I crawled onto my stomach as he placed his mouth on my upper back.
I felt my entire body relax.
Kneeling on the bed, I felt my cheeks grow hot.
I cradled my face in my hands, realizing if we kept hooking up, Id begin to cry.
Why are you covering your face?
I had no words.
Wed reached a decision point.
I knew I couldnt bring him to my room.
I gathered up my belongings and we made our way back to the bar.
The next morning I awoke and reached for my phone, hoping to have heard from him.
I showered and packed up my things.
On my way back to the hotel, I stopped by the coffee bar to grab my latte.
As the barista was making my drink, I asked, Are you going to be here all morning?
I wanted to buy a coffee for Robbie.
I wanted to leave some sort of token to say, Thank you.
She said she would be, so I put forth my plan.
She grabbed a pen and began jotting down his name on the back of an old receipt.
Heres 10 bucks I said.
If he doesnt show, just keep the money.
What did I hope to accomplish by treating him to coffee?
Why did I feel the need to thank him?
If a ping went off nearby, my ears perked.
I wanted to hear from him.
Id had so much fun.
Maybe we could somehow see each other again.
By 10:17 a.m., I caved.
Did you get your coffee?
Im so emotionally raw, Ill cling to anything within a 10 foot radius,I texted.
Totally,she wrote back.
Meredith had dropped her apartment keys into my hands the night of my breakup.
Meredith had been on the receiving end of many tear-filled phone calls during the aftermath.
Meredith knew I could have easily slept with Robbie, but that I wasnt ready.
I could handle a make out session, not a one night stand.
Gone were our days of haphazardly hooking up with guys and hoping theyd turn into husband material by morning.
We not only knew better, we cared for ourselves more.
Will I see them again?
If I dont hear from them what does this mean about me?
Now I see each encounter as an addition to the jar.
Each guy, each experience, gives me insight into who I am and what I want.
The marble is a lesson, not a mini-heartbreak.
Our texting banter ended as the plane began to take off.
I tilted my head back and closed my eyes.
I realized in that moment I didnt really care if Robbie texted back.
It didnt matter if we ever saw each other again.
What mattered had already happened.
The coffee had been a prop.
What Id really wanted to say was this: Thank you.
Thank for waking me up.
For holding my hand and breathing life back into my body.
For making me laugh more in one night that I have in the past year.
For giving a part of myself back to me.
